Going Under
by YED
Summary: The aftermath of Jess' death leads to Sam's disappearance and Dean's kidnapping. Who will save who?
1. Chapter 1

GOING UNDER

Chapter One

They'd stayed in a place like this a hundred times, a cheap motel, a bed for the night. Sam should have been used to it by now, but his time away at college had given him a false sense of security. Sharing a place with Jessica, waking up in the same city, in the same bed, it was the dream Sam had always wanted. Jess had given him that, the stability of home that Sam had no memory of. In a flash of raging fire, the dream had been extinguished, stolen from Sam just like his mother had been.

"Sam? Hey Sammy, you with me?" a soft voice asked, rousing Sam from his thoughts. "I thought maybe we'd head over to the diner across the street, grab a bite of breakfast before..." Dean hesitated for a moment, looking into the haunted, hollow eyes of his little brother. "before we leave. You haven't eaten anything since yesterday. It's gonna be a long day, you need to keep up your strength."

Sam blinked, slowly coming out of the deep waking sleep he'd been in since last night. He could still hear the fire trucks, smell the smoke on his hands, and see the burnt corpse of what used to be the most beautiful woman in his world. "A long day? Yeah, I guess so."

Dean flinched at the robotic sound of Sam's voice, the slow drawl of his words. He'd hoped after a few hours sleep the shock might have worn off, that Sam might show some type of emotion. People talked about stages, shock and denial and all that psychological crap Dean didn't understand. Sam was stuck in shock, and Dean had no idea how to help him through the pain. He'd tried everything, consoling him, trying to act normal, even offering a jaw to punch. Sam had just sat there, looking up at him like he was now. "So... uh... I was thinking eggs, side of bacon, and that whole wheat toast healthy bread you used to like. How does that sound?"

Sam nodded without thinking simply because it was the easiest form of communication he could think of.. If he were asked later about what Dean had said, he would have drawn a complete blank. Dean was in charge today, Sam just the puppet that allowed Dean to pull his strings in any fashion that might get him through this.

Dean knelt before his brother, tucking a finger under his chin to tilt Sam's head to look at him. "Okay, now that we got that settled, we deal with the getting' ready part. I even left you some hot water. So, shower first, tame that mop on your head and we'll go form there." Dean smiled a little, hoping for a smile back from Sam, but receiving only a blank stare. It was agonizing to see Sam like this, tearing at Dean's heart as he helped his brother off with his shirt. Sam's skin was peppered with bruises, a reminders of the fire and how hard Sam had fought to save Jess. The physical pain Dean knew Sam could deal with, but the emotional scars would probably never leave him. With a gentle hand on Sam's back, Dean coaxed Sam to stand, leading him towards the motel bathroom. Flipping the light switch as they entered, Dean was surprised to see Sam's gaze turn towards the flicking fluorescent light above the mirror.

"They should fix that," Sam mumbled, catching his own tired reflection in the mirror. "You should fix things when they break. You might now get the chance later."

Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat, reaching out with both hands to cup either side of Sam's cheeks. Sam was fighting him, but eventually Dean managed to lock eyes with him. "You listen to me, this is not your fault. You did not do this. You hear me?"

Sam grabbed for the hands on his face, snatching at Dean's wrists. "Then whose fault is it, Dean? Tell me that, whose fault is it? First mom, now Jess. You gotta get away from me."

Dean took a step back, the back of his legs hitting the edge of the tub. "What? No way, not gonna happen. You're stuck with me bro', get used to it." There was no way Dean was walking out on Sam, not now, not ever. They were all each other had right now, and until they found Dad they needed to stick together. Sam could be as stubborn as he wanted, but Dean wasn't leaving. Jutting out his chin, Dean closed the space between them again. "We do this together. Now, get in the shower."

Sam shook his head, eyes pleading for Dean to listen to him. Everyone Sam loved was either missing or dead, and the thought of losing Dean wasn't an option. "Please, Dean..."

Dean hated the brokenness in Sam's posture, the slump of his shoulders, the lost look in his eyes. What was he supposed to say? That Sam was right? That Sam was wrong? It didn't matter what he said, he was doomed either way. Besides, they didn't have the answers yet, and pointing fingers wasn't the way to the truth. "I am not leaving you. We're done, this discussion is over." Clamping down on his emotions, Dean brushed past his brother, shooting a determined look in his direction before closing the door.

Dean kept an ear to the door for another minute, sighing softly at the sound of the shower being turned on. This was going to be a long day, probably the longest day of Sam's life so far. Dean was determined to be there for him, to hold him up, carry him if he had to. Satisfied that Sam was okay, Dean bent over Sam's bed, laying out Sam's suit, shirt and tie. While Sam had been sleeping, Dean had slipped out undetected, done a little shopping for the both of them. The phone receiver had been placed by Sam's head, Dean's cellphone pressed to his ear to listen to his brother's every move while he was gone. Overprotective? Yeah, but when it came to Sammy, nothing was too good.

With everything ready for Sam, Dean walked back to the closed bathroom door, tapping lightly on the wood. "Hey, you okay in there?" Waiting a few seconds, Dean slowly twisted the door knob, feeling a sudden shiver run up his spine. A rush of cool air wafted from the room as Dean opened the door, the bathroom window wide open. "No! No! Sam! Dammit! " Kicking at his empty duffel bag on the ground, Dean cursed himself for being so stupid. He should never have left it in there last night, should never have trusted that Sam wouldn't take off. Now what? Sam couldn't have gotten too far. Rushing from the room, Dean grabbed his keys and wallet from the nightstand, heading straight for the Impala only to find the air had been let out of one of the tires. Sam had covered his tracks, made it almost impossible to track him. With no money, ID, or credit cards, Sam would be invisible.

Dean knew it was useless to check around the building, but he did it anyway, in hopes that Sam might have changed his mind. Coming up empty, Dean walked back to the room, needing a few minutes to come up with a plan. He'd underestimated his little brother, counted on the fact that his time away from hunting had taken away his edge. It was obvious now that deep down, Sam was still a highly trained soldier just like he was. Dad had done his job well, too well.

Back in the room, Dean collapsed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling deep in thought. A creek of a floorboard had him reaching for his gun, slowly sitting up. What he saw next was enough to have the gun in his hand wavering in his grasp.

"Hello Dean," a raspy male voice murmured, the Demon seated comfortably on a motel room chair. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?" With a flick of his hand, the Demon tore the weapon from Dean's hand. "Relax, if I wanted you dead, you already would be. Granted, seeing your guts strewn all over this floor would really make my day, but I have more important fish to fry. "

Dean kept his eyes glued to the Demon, moving slowly to the foot of the bed. He had nothing here to protect him, so for the moment, he would have to play along. "Seeing your guts strewn all over the floor would make my day too. Where's Sammy? I swear to god if you've hurt him..."

The Demon arched an eyebrow at Dean, leaning forward in the chair to rest his elbows on his knees. "Hurt him? Why Dean, that stings, right here," patting his chest, the Demon mock pouted, pretending to be offended. " Looks like we're both looking for Sammy, lucky him. I may just have a way to find him too. "

Dean didn't like the sound of any of this, suddenly hoping that Sam was two states away by now. As the Demon stood up, Dean tried to move away, finding his body rooted to the spot. A lightning fast punch snapped his head back, two more rendering him unconscious.

"Now, let's go find your brother..."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

Part Two

Unconsciousness really wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. It was the waking up part that sucked, that jackhammer headache that didn't leave you for days. Dean knew all about that, had taken his fair share of hard knocks over the years.

"Dean? Dean, wake up. Come on son, open your eyes."

Dean wanted to ignore the voice, had firmly made up his mind to do so, when one word penetrated the dark haze around his brain. Son? Someone was calling him, son? There was only one person in the living world that would call him that, and Dean had been looking for that person for what seemed like forever. Running a marathon would have been easier for Dean than opening his eyes right now, but if there was even the slightest glimmer of hope that that voice belonged to his father, Dean just had to know. Dragging his eyes open, Dean blinked against the shadowed, murky light, willing the blurry images around him into focus. "Dad? Dad, is that you?"

John Winchester smiled down at his son, relieved to see that his eldest was slowly starting to come around. As bad as the situation was, at least they were both still breathing and for the most part unscathed. "It's me. You hurt anywhere else? Where's Sam? He didn't bring him in with you."

The relief Dean saw in his father's eyes was reflected in his own, both men clearly happy to be reunited again. The feeling was short lived though as the gravity of the situation began to sink in. As Dean slowly sat up, a hand pressed to his forehead, his surroundings started to become painfully clear. The air was damp and musty, the floor beneath him rock solid. Directly in front of him were iron bars, a small window behind him providing the only source of light. A prison cell? He and his dad were in a prison cell? "No, no I'm fine. Sammy wasn't with me, he... he took off just before the Demon showed up." Avoiding his dad's eyes, Dean looked around for anything they could use as a weapon. He had failed Sammy, let him get away, and looking at his father would only drive that fact home.

It was easy to see what Dean was thinking, John having mirrored those thoughts a thousand times over the past few days. He'd walked straight into a trap, fallen prey to the Demon and now Dean had done the same thing. Dean would have to share that guilt name tag. "Let's hope he stays lost," John murmured, linking an arm through Dean's to help him stagger to his feet. "I take it it's true about Jessica? "

Dean leaned heavily into his father's embrace, allowing him to help him to his feet. The reunion hugs would have to wait until later when they were all back together again as a family. Right now, they had to get out of here, find Sam and regroup. "And just when you think demons lie, they go and surprise you," Dean muttered sarcastically, nodding his head to his father's question. "It happened last night. J-Jess' dead, dad, just like mom." Dean couldn't help the slight tremor in his voice, having seen now as an adult what Dad had witnessed so many years ago with his mom. It was a horrible way to die, a sight Dean knew he could never erase from his mind.

John slid his arm around Dean's waist, helping him over to the bunk beds. He needed to rest, gain back some strength. John felt his insides churning as Dean spoke, thinking about Sam, out there on his own, dealing with the same pain that he had endured years ago. "You can't blame yourself, Dean, there's nothing you could have done.."

Dean wasn't about to buy that statement, but it was too late to go back and change things now. Arguing with dad would only be a waste of precious energy, and Dean needed all the energy he could muster. "So what's the plan, Dad? We can't just sit here and wait for Sam to walk into a trap," Dean muttered, changing the subject.

John wished he had a plan, that he had better news for his eldest son. "Truth it, I don't have one. I know one thing, we're not alone here, there's others." John nodded his head towards the small window. "I hear them sometimes, crying mostly."

"Others? What others?" Dean couldn't understand why the Demon would have brought anyone else here... unless. "What, you mean like friends of ours?" Dean's mind was in overdrive, siphoning through all the people closest to them.

John stood, turning his back on Dean as he tugged on the tense muscles in his neck. He would have given anything not to answer that question, but Dean had to know the truth. "No Dean, other people connected to the special children, children like Sam."

Dean wasn't sure if the knock on the head had juggled his brain or if maybe his father had spent too much time here on his own. Either way, Dean's dad wasn't making sense at all. "Dad, what are you talking about? Special children? What special children? What's this got to do with Sammy?"

Sam had wandered aimlessly for hours, reliving Jess' death in his mind, trying to figure out where he should go from here. He needed answers, but risking Dad or Dean's life to get them wasn't an option. There were only a handful of people that he trusted, only one that he knew would drop everything to help him. Bobby was a long time friend of the family, and even though he and John Winchester hadn't always seen eye to eye, they respected one another's opinion. When Sam made the decision to contact Bobby, he knew he was on the right track. If anyone could figure this out, if was Bobby. Luckily for Sam, Bobby hadn't been too far away, meeting up with him at a diner later that night.

"Sam, it's good to see you son," Bobby exclaimed, hugging the youngest Winchester before thumping him affectionately on the back. "What can I do for ya? Where's that pain in the ass brother of yours?"

Sam smiled weakly, genuinely glad to see Bobby again. Taking his seat in the booth, Sam leaned across the table, keeping his voice low. "It's good to see you too. Dean's not here, it's just me. I need your help, Bobby." A sudden burst of red hot pain flashed through Sam's mind, the pain so intense that Sam almost forgot to breathe. Sam felt like he was being pulled underwater, away from Bobby, away from the real world to some deep, dark, cavern in his head. He could see Dad, Dean, some kind of cell... a jail? Sam couldn't make out exactly where they were at first, but slowly the name of the place came into focus.

What in hell was going on? Was all Bobby could think about as he held Sam's shoulders, calling to him to try and break through to the kid. He'd come here alone, without John or Dean, and now he was having some kind of episode. Bobby felt helpless, relieved when Sam finally lifted his head and snatched at his shirt. "Sam? Are you okay, son? You wanna tell me what exactly that was? I best get you to a doctor."

Clutching at Bobby's shirt, Sam tried to piece together what he had seen, make some sense out of all the jumbled images. Bobby was asking him questions he couldn't answer, but one thing was painfully clear. Dad and Dean were in trouble, and it was up to him to save them...


End file.
